A carnival in the woods, death by torture and two suicides.
I was in a forest, dancing through the trees. There were pixies and wood nymphs, and they were laughing and dancing with me. The beat was strong, fast and complicated. Sitars and clarinets and fiddles traveled through the woods. Past the lake, a crowd of gleeful mermaids rose to the top, splashing around in the water, their brightly coloured hair fanning out around them. Past the trees, the birds joined in, adding in another layer to the music. Past the fox's hide out, out he came to dance.
It was a carnival, a mass of colour and sound and excitement and joy. I was leading it, my hair flying out around me as I danced. My hair was red, not black, and I was wearing an emerald green dress. My unscathed arms were adorned with many clinking bracelets. We traveled through the woods, on and on, deeper and deeper.
The scene changed. The drums became louder, more pronounced and ominous. The sitars and clarinets and fiddles disappeared. There was nothing now, but constant drumming. And the screeching as the pixies turned on me, pulling my hair in all directions. I watched as it slowly faded from bronze red, to inky black.
"No!" I screamed. They were taking away my happiness.
The pixies cackled with merciless and twisted glee. They grew, and grew and grew, until the were the size of women. They were taller than me. Their noses grew pointed, sprouted warts. Their hair became dry and patchy, their skin a horrible green tint to it. Their clothes turned black, and they pulled lethal looking wands from their pockets. Fire spat out at me, burning my clothes till I was naked, but for a few scraps of clothing that survived. Shards of glass fell on me, and as I raised my arms to cover my head, one of the witches grabbed it and twisted it. My right arm was bent backwards, at an angle that you would never want to see.
"Help me!" I screeched.
The witches shrieked in delight, I didn't know what to do.
"Leave me alone!" I pleaded, tears falling down my cheeks.
Two witches came towards me, one carrying a sharp dagger with a ruby in the hilt, the other a piece of red hot wire. As they approached me, they began to change. Shrinking down a few inches, their hair turned blonde with bad regrowth and their noses lost the warts. Their black dressed shrunk, revealing their thinning legs and arms. Heavy boots turned into glittering heels. Their faces were overly bronzed, they had clumpy eyelashes, a bad job of smoky eyeshadow. A cigarette dangling from cherry red lips, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a wad of cash in the other. I was looking at two perfect copies of my mother. I was paralysed with fear, I couldn't find it in me to cry out. They took a step forward, and merged into one body.
"Isabelle," she said. "Long time no see."
Taking a step closer, she took a loving look at the dagger. I stared at it with wide eyes, and tried to back away.
"Not scared of your mommy, are you?" she asked, cocking her head to side, a wide smile full of malice taking her lips.
A witch grabbed my broken arm and pushed me down on the ground. I cried out in pain, but no one even spared a sympathetic glance.
"You know that you're about to get what you deserve? You ran away from me. You left me all alone. But after a few days, I realised that life is so much better without you," she whispered, circling me like a shark might circle a stray surfer.
"Tonight Isabelle," she sneered. "You're going to die."
She caught me off guard by taking a sudden step forward. She gave me a high heeled kick in the stomach, and crouched down to my level. With another nasty smile, she brought the knife to my arm, and began to slice through my skin.
"Leave me alone!" I screamed.
"You're being cheeky, Isabelle. I will not tolerate your cheek!" she said shrilly, digging the knife further into my arm.
But she only smiled and set the knife aside, picking up the wire.
"Hold her. Turn her over," she commanded. Two of the witches obeyed at once.
I felt a searing pain in my back, where she pressed the wire to my skin. I tried not to scream again, but I couldn't stop the tears. The tears fell from my eyes and dripped onto the ground. Scarlet tears. My head began to spin, I didn't know whether I was standing up or sitting down, I didn't know how to breathe, or how to move. My breath caught in my throat, feeling jagged, as if I had swallowed glass. I felt strong, rough hands roll me onto my back, so I was facing the sky, which was mostly obscured by trees.
"Ready to die, Isabelle?" my mother asked.
"Just kill me now," I gasped.
"Good things come to those who wait," she teased.
I closed my eyes, and felt cold, hard hands on my stomach. It was quite soothing, until I was cut across my stomach, one quick, deep gash. Another one, over lapping it. And two more, until I had 4 lines on my stomach, forming a star shape.
"I'm not done yet, honey," she said, seeing my grimace.
More slices on my arms, my legs, my chest, my face, all over my body. The blood loss started to catch up with me, I began to feel dizzy.
"Now we're ready. Good bye, Isabelle."
"Goodbye," I whispered, the word barely out of my mouth when she stabbed me, straight through the heart. I took my last breath, then all was black. For all of a few seconds.
Now the scene changed. I felt rain on my bloodied, dead body. The sky was grey, rain was pouring from the heaven's and a coffin was being lowered into a freshly dug grave.
"Who's funeral is this?" I thought.
I tried to get a glimpse at the headstone, or move towards it, but the priest was standing beside it, obscuring it from my view. I looked at the people surrounding the coffin. There was Jason. Gerard. Mikey. My dad. Donna. Lindsey. Bandit. Alicia Way. Frank Iero. Jamia Iero. Ray Toro. Christa Toro. A feeling of dread started to clench at my insides, grabbing and twisting my intestines till I felt sick. I froze on the spot, waiting for the priest to move away. He finished his prayer, which was inaudible over the pouring rain and howling wind. Every body got up and with a final glance at the coffin, walked away. All except Gerard. He kneeled at the edge of the grave, tears pouring from his eyes like the rain from the clouds.
I took my chance to look at the now unobscured headstone.
In loving memory of Isabelle Grace Marigold, who tragically took her own life.
1995 - 2010
The World is Ugly, But You're Beautiful to Me
"No. No. They've got it all wrong, I didn't kill myself, my mom murdered me. I did not kill myself!" I thought,
"Gerard!" I cried, but he didn't seem to hear me. "Gerard, I'm so sorry!"
I screamed and screamed till my throat was dry, but he didn't react. In the end I settled with sitting down beside in at the edge of the grave.
There was an incredibly strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes radiating from him, and his eyes were hollow. Empty. Shadowed.
"How could you do this to me?" He whispered, and for a fleeting moment I thought he was talking to me. Technically he was, but he was talking to the Isabelle in the coffin, not the Isabelle sitting beside him.
"How could you leave me? Why the fuck did you kill yourself, you had me! It's all my fault, I could've stopped you, but I didn't. It's all my fault. It's all my fault," he whimpered.
"Gerard, I didn't kill myself! Gerard, I'm here!" I said, throwing my arms around him. But he stood up, and his leg went right through my arm. He walked away, and I was alone.
A ghost in a grave yard.
The scene changed again. I was in a dark, messy bedroom. Paper and empty bottles were strewn across the floor. This was Gerard's bedroom. He stumbled down the stairs, still we clad in the suit he had been wearing at the funeral. My funeral. He sat down on the unmade and buried his face in his hands. I sat beside him, but I knew now that he would never know I was there. Taking deep breaths, he took a pen and paper from the desk. I thought he was going to write a song, that was what he did when he was upset. But I was wrong. I knew from the first sentence that I was wrong.
[/ To my friend's and family.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry that my life isn't what you wanted it to be, I'm not the perfect son that you always wanted, mommy. Mikey, I was never there for you when I should have been. I'm an excuse for a big brother. Lindsey... I love you. I love you so much, you can't even imagine how much I love you. But I'm not a good husband. I'm never there for you or Bandit, I'm always either on tour, recording, or at comic conventions. Bandit doesn't act with me like she does with you. You're always there, I'm not. I'm pathetic. I can't drink without getting addicted. I promised I would never relapsed, and I broke your heart by doing just that. And you don't know, but it's not just the alcohol, it's the drugs again, too. They're back. I can't handle the death of a loved one without drugs or alcohol. I can't handle the death of a loved one without destroying myself. Which is why Bandit should not be growing up with a father like me. No child should grow up with an alcoholic, drug addict for a parent. Look what it did to Naren. She's dead now. So I'm leaving to give her a better life, and so that you never have to worry about me spending all our money on drugs, or getting arrested for drug use. I've hit rock bottom before. After you hit rock bottom, you can only go up, you can't go down. I don't disagree. But it is possible to rise up, then sink back down again. Which is what I have done. A relapse. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I couldn't save Naren.
Mom, thank you for everything, you are amazing, you stuck with Mikey and I, and loved and supported us. I love you, mommy.
Mikey, you are so talented and special. You are my little brother, and I have always wanted to protect you. But how am I supposed to be there for you when I barely even know what's going on?
Bandit, daddy loves you. You are my amazing, beautiful baby girl. I love you, and I will always wsupport you, even when I'm gone.
Lindsey. I have never loved any woman like I have loved you. You are amazing, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I love you more and more every day. I have never gotten used to the sight of you, and every time I look at my wedding ring, I am filled to the brim with emotion, and I never want to let go of you. But it's for the best. I don't deserve you, after all that I've done. But you never left. I love you, I love you, I love you.
And he reached out and took a handful of pills and a bottle of water from his desk drawer.
"Here's to the last pills I'll ever take," he murdered.
"NO!" I screamed. Taking a swig of water and shoving the pills into his mouth, he lifted a photo of Lindsey and Bandit off the desk and clutched it to his chest. He swallowed the pills, and drowsiness washed over him immediately. The last thing he did was raise the photo to his lips and kiss it. Then he collapsed in a heap on the bed.
Gerard Way just died. Dead. Gone.
"NO! GERARD, NO! GERARD!" I wailed.
I screamed my throat raw for hours, crying for somebody to come. I tried to open the door but every time my hand came near it, the doorknob repelled my outstretched fingers.
I cried for somebody to come down and find him, take him to hospital, maybe they could help him!
But deep down, I knew, he was beyond help. He was dead. But does anyone notice, there's a corpse in this bed?
He had finally joined his precious Black Parade.